A sudden fireball a hundred yards to her right killed the mood. Someone yelled, “Medic on Blackjack 3–2!” Walker took one glance at the other shredded Bradley, with its detached turret upside down five meters away, and turned back to her scope. Not a thing anyone could do for them.
Dixon roared with frustration and laid on his Bushmaster cannon. “They’re like 90 % wiped out, but the bastards won’t fall back. What’s with these fucks?”
Walker snarled into her radio. Her own dismounts were surely rattled from the artillery strike. The poor guys were way closer than was safe, but oh well. Time to play her last card.
“All dismounts: mop this fucking mess up, over.”
Her scattered infantry squads rose from a hundred little hidey-holes. The ten or so enemy vehicles still moving disappeared under a deluge of anti-tank rockets firing at close range. Walker ignored the slaughter and spread out a map across her knees. She grabbed the battalion radio.
“Okay, we’ve stopped the bleeding; now let’s put some pressure on the wound. Gator 6, Charlie 6, here’s how we’re going to clear the town…”
Hunting down the last Freedom Brigade holdouts didn’t take long. The crazies charged directly at any federal soldier they saw. No, the real holdup was navigating the countless bodies, both civilian and military, already clogging the streets.
Walker took a knee at the Mississippi’s eastern bank and faced west, trying hard not to turn around. Next to her, the brigade’s rarely seen NBC officer fiddled with his air samplers.
“For the tenth time, it’s clear. We don’t need the masks anymore. These were non-persistent agents. Short lived gas, but incredibly, uh… effective.”
Beside her, Charlie Company’s CO, and her nominal battalion commander, tore off his mask. He heaved chunks into the river below. The captain was green all right, but that wasn’t caused by any chemical. No matter how bad he felt, he’d survive.
Walker forced herself to spin around. “Well, that settles it. Everyone can de-mask.” She popped hers off reluctantly.
In front of her, two privates from the work detail dropped their load as gently as possible. “If you don’t mind ma’am, I’d like to leave mine on.”
Walker winced at the old man’s body they lined up with all the others in the Walmart parking lot. Twenty rows, each a hundred yards long… and they’d only searched a tenth of the city. They were going to need more space.
A radioman came running up and waited awkwardly for his commanding officer to finish heaving. Walker didn’t mind the weakness. To be fair, she’d already emptied her own stomach twice, but damn it, you do that stuff in private. Not in front of the men. She took the radioman’s arm and eased him away.
“What is it, Specialist?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but Olympus 6 wants a detailed report from the on-scene commander. In person.”
Walker frowned. “What type of call sign is that? Some general?”
“Uh, it’s the president, LT.”
Walker couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ha! Thanks, I needed a good laugh.”
The radioman grabbed her shoulder. “No joke, ma’am. Apparently, he’s been touring the battlefield up north. His exact location is classified, but it’s pretty obvious why we’re getting sudden reinforcements.” He tilted his radio handset at a dozen Blackhawk helicopters circling above, searching for somewhere to land.
The young soldier coughed. “No offense lieutenant, but you might want to change.”
For the first time, Walker realized the guy had been studiously careful to maintain eye contact. She glanced down at her dirty chemical protective suit. “Oh, hell.” She forgot that she’d unzipped the thing all the way to let out some of the heat. She covered herself up as the first load of khaki-clad Special Forces landed and fanned out.
Even a hundred yards away, Walker had no trouble recognizing the tall man dismounting from one of the birds. A very nervous soldier broke from the wall of armed men around him and ran up to Walker.
“Are you Blackjack 6? POTUS would like a word. Come with me. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pat you down first.”
The radioman’s eyes bugged out, but Walker just shrugged and handed him her rifle. “Well, too late. How’s my hair?”
By the time Walker joined the presidential entourage, he’d apparently forgotten all about her. Security kept her ten yards away, but it wasn’t hard to overhear all the cussing and wailing from that distance.
“Sir, this is why the gloves have to come off!” Despite the sweltering heat, the president’s National Security Advisor shivered in rage. “Mark my words. If we don’t respond massively to this, this… barbarism, then this will only be the beginning. We can’t let them get away with such atrocities!”
While his staff beat their chests and vowed epic revenge, the president merely crouched down. He clenched the hand of a young woman, still in her nightgown. There wasn’t a mark on her body, but that tight, shocked face told the whole miserable story.
Some general, sporting spotlessly clean full battle rattle, stepped up behind him. “Jesus Christ. Mr. President, while we destroyed our own chemical stockpiles years ago, we could whip something up within 48 hours. My staff is already working out the details. We won’t hit population centers, but most of the rebel army is in the field. We could pay those bastards back a 100 times over without harming a single civilian.”
Through the fog of anguished threats swirling around him, one female voice cut into the president’s malaise. “Fuckin’ idiots. The URA didn’t do this.”
The president wheeled around, spotting two guards pushing away a cursing, ponytailed officer. “Wait, bring that soldier over here.”
Walker didn’t bother saluting her commander in chief. She didn’t even wait for him to speak first before she opened her mouth. “This was a 100 % Freedom Brigade operation, sir. It wasn’t the Texans or the URA we fought here. Those fascist fucks probably want you to retaliate against the whole West Coast. Then they’d have a reason to justify their hate. Probably get a million fresh recruits too!”
The president changed the subject. “Did you take any prisoners?”
“Sir, you don’t know much about these fanatics, do you? They’re worse than the old Nazi SS. If one of them surrenders, you can bet your ass he’s a suicide bomber. So no, we don’t even try to take them alive anymore. That’s the type of war we need to wage, sir.”
The president was at a loss as he stared into her inky black shark eyes. The anguish and frustration of a generation reflected back at him.
For her part, Walker recoiled in fear. She saw no hatred or vengeance in her president’s eyes, but something much worse.
The gears of war spinning.
“That’s an excellent idea, Lieutenant. As soon as your unit can spare you, I want you to set it up immediately. You’ll be in charge of the project.”
“Huh? What project, sir?”
A faint smile crossed his dark face. “What you hinted at. A cross agency, joint military and intelligence community hunting club. Your job is to eradicate every last Freedom Brigade extremist, wherever they are. Even after the war’s ended.”
He waved over his National Security Advisor. “Hook her up, ASAP. Whatever staff and resources she requires. Unlimited budget. You’re going to support her, but Captain Walker here answers to me alone. Is that clear?”
He turned back to the surprised young officer, while hushing all his gesticulating generals. “You now have the personal authority to commandeer any military asset, short of nuclear weapons, to get the job done. No general or CIA bureaucrat is in your chain of command.”